


Let That Shit Go

by IrishWitch58



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Humor, M/M, Meditation, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 21:01:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9676976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrishWitch58/pseuds/IrishWitch58
Summary: Sam suggests guided meditation to help Bucky deal with stress. It works but not in the way Sam expected. Rating is for language. Steve/Bucky is implied.





	

Sam Wilson was an empathetic and patient man. Life experiences that might have burned that out of a lesser man, had only served to enhance those attributes in him. But at the moment he was unsure if he wanted to bang his head against the wall or throw James Barnes through it. “Seriously man. Why keep coming to me for advice if you never take it?” He managed to keep his tone reasonable and gave himself a mental back pat.  
“Because what you suggest is crap that won't work,” snapped the man seated opposite him. James 'Bucky' Barnes was a recovering trauma victim. Hell, he was probably the poster child for trauma. He had come out of Hydra's clutches with a remarkably intact memory, once free of the chemical soup they had pumped him full of. The problem was that he was full of rage for what had been done to his life and his only response was to trample through Hydra bases and personnel like the four horsemen rolled into one really badass dude. There fury and aggression were useful. Not so much so in everyday society. Sam had suggested counseling. Nope. Group therapy. Nope. Medication. Hell nope. But Sam would try one more time. This was Steve's Bucky and he considered Steve Rogers a good friend.   
“So, talk time. Tell me what was going on in your head when you put a fist through the men's room wall in the conference suite.” He leaned a bit forward to seem open and interested. Body language was important in conveying emotional cues.   
Barnes looked at him a little sullenly. “Frustration,” he finally muttered.   
Sam nodded. “We can work with that. Frustration at what, particularly?”  
Seeing he was being taken seriously, Bucky considered carefully. “Meetings have a lot of BS ya know. That one, we spent too much time pointing fingers at what went wrong instead of planning how to get it right the next time.”  
Sam sat back and crossed one ankle over his opposite knee conveying relaxation and a willingness to problem solve as necessary. “OK, point to you there. A lot of stuff in meetings is tedious and time wasting. But everyone is not always on the same page. What is rehashing for you may be new to me.”  
Bucky nodded grudgingly. “But I still have no patience for wasting time,” he grumbled.  
“You mean when so much of yours was already wasted?” Sam offered.   
Grey eyes flashed up to Sam's face. “Maybe.” Bucky sighed and lowered his gaze to the frankly uninteresting carpet. “I take it out on Steve a lot and that's not fair. I know a second after I say something it's wrong but I can't take it back. At least the bathroom wall doesn't make puppy eyes at me.”  
“So you snap at Steve and I bet he just let's you do it. He's like that, especially with you.”   
Bucky jerked his head up, glaring. “What do you mean by that?” he challenged.   
Sam spread his hands and remained outwardly calm. “Seriously, do you think the two of you are that subtle, especially Steve? I'm supposed to be able to read people. It's my day job, and Nat figured you out before I did. Your friends,” and he emphasized the word, “are well aware of what the two of you mean to each other and we all have your backs. And no, we never said anything because you two never did. So you can stop threatening mayhem with those eyes. I'm on your side.”  
Bucky took some time to process that before he stopped looking murderous. “So what's the suggestion this time?”  
“I think you should try guided meditation. Bruce uses it a lot. I'll give you some recordings but you can look up others on line. You Tube has a bunch. You listen to the voice and match your breathing to the directions as you visualize. It quiets the mind by calming the body.” Bucky still looked suspicious. “It's not brainwashing, if that's what you're thinking. The body and mind are not separate. Influence on one can help the other. If you calm down the body's physical signs of frustration – tight muscles, faster heart rate – you calm the mind as well. Man, you're a sniper. How important is breathing?”  
Bucky gave a small grunt of acknowledgment. Controlling breathing was one of   
a sniper's most necessary skills. “I'll try it.” He took the flash drive Sam held out and left.  
* * *  
Bucky tossed his earbuds across the sofa. The third meditation was no better than the first two. The soothing voice and directions to breath deeply while visualizing calm lakes and forest pathways seemed foreign and useless. He scrubbed a hand over his face and thrust the laptop to one side. He eyed his phone. Maybe the tracks Sam had provided were good for more average levels of tension. Bucky was not average. But Bruce found stuff that worked for him so there had to be something out there that was more industrial strength. He typed in 'guided meditation' but mistyped three times. He impatiently went to voice search and requested 'guided fucking meditation'.  
The screen changed offering several search results. The first was 'Fuck That, An Honest Meditation'. He grinned and tapped a finger on the play arrow. With that title it was bound to be a joke but he was ready for a laugh. The voice began as many of the recordings did. 'Sit or lie comfortably, quietly. Allow yourself to be here, fully in this moment. With your eyes closed begin to connect with your inner world of thought and feeling.' The voice continued in the same soothing tones. 'Gradually let the horseshit of the external world fade from your awareness. If you find your mind wandering to other thoughts, don't let it concern you. Just acknowledge that all that shit is fucking bullshit.' There was two and a half minutes of similarly profane observations which Bucky found initially amusing then found himself amazed that his ever present tension was much lessened. He cracked his back a little and felt the muscles relax even further. He looked back in the search and found more recordings in the same vein. He quickly subscribed, bookmarked and made sure he could find them again.   
Steve wandered in a little later. Bucky glanced up and smiled. Steve returned the smile, a little hesitantly. “Everything OK?” he asked.   
Bucky smiled more broadly. “Sure is. What are we doing for dinner?”

* * *  
The meeting the next day had everyone around the table rolling their eyes. Maria wanted to coach everybody for an upcoming charity event that would be heavily covered by the press. She looked pointedly at Bucky when she repeated that members of the press were not to be elbowed, hip checked or glared at with murderous intent, adding that she was very unhappy that she had to pay for dry cleaning a press member's suit when he became, as she put it, overly anxious. Steve was giving Bucky a very nervous side eye. Not only was he aware that Bucky had successfully make a dedicated journalist piss themselves. He was also aware that Bucky didn't like such things being pointed out. Sam watched from the other side of the table as Bucky just gave a small nod in Maria's direction and focused on the agenda notes in front of him. Steve looked like he was still waiting for a grenade to go off when the meeting ended. Bucky tucked his earbuds in and walked out, giving Sam a wave as he did. Sam gave a quiet fist pump. He had found something that worked.   
The sight of Bucky, sitting in quiet corners became common. He took his phone everywhere and he listened to his recordings after meetings, before and after missions, and before going to bed. It took a little while for him to find his favorite place.  
The tower had multiple gardens scattered around to provide comfortable relaxing spaces for the employees. The Avengers in residence had more or less taken over the greenhouse space on the seventy first floor. There was a lovely Romanesque fountain and multiple floral and fruit plantings. Butterflies and birds were carefully managed and provided charming glimpses of life and color. Bruce Banner was a frequent occupant at any time. He was presently seated on a low bench, noise cancelling headphones on and a serene expression on his face. He was so still, a butterfly had landed on his upturned palm. Bucky entered, careful to make no noise. He eased down with his back to the fountain and the sun on his face. He cued up 'Inner Fucking Peace' and hit play. The fountain pattered, the birds sang, and time passed.   
Outside the glass, Maria stood with her arms crossed and one finger in front of her lips, a slight frown creasing her forehead. Pepper Potts, on her way to the elevators, paused and was also captivated. Neither man inside appeared to be aware of them or, indeed, of each other. The two women looked at each other and shrugged. So long as nothing was being broken, spindled or mutilated it was all good.   
* * *  
“Tony, all I am saying is that being as wound up all the time as you are is not healthy.” Sam gestured with his beer bottle. They were sitting in the enormous open space that Tony called his living room. Steve and Clint were engaged in cheering on their respective teams on the TV. Bruce and Natasha had a chess game going. Both were good players and surprisingly well matched. Pepper and Bucky were doing something behind the bar. Sam had heard rumors of seven layer dip and was prepared to rush in for his share early. He turned back to Tony. “Seriously, guided meditation works.”  
Bucky apparently heard. He came out from behind the bar and pointed to his phone. “Stark, Sam is a genius at this. Guided meditation is really useful. He got me started on it.”  
“You? You're shitting me.” Tony gestured with a forefinger. “Wait, is that why my building engineers haven't been complaining about the repairs? You gone all New Agey on us?”  
“You should try it and see. He tossed the phone to Tony. Hit the first one you see. I was listening to it this morning.”  
Tony eyed the phone suspiciously but tapped the first cued up recording and the phone's speakers delivered the message 'Breathe in strength, breathe out bullshit. Allow your breathing to discover it's own natural unhurried pace. If your thoughts drift to the three ring shit show of your life, bring your attention back to your breathing, and with each breath, feel your body saying, Fuck that.”   
Tony began to absolutely cackle like a demented chicken. Bucky grabbed the phone back. “It works for me, man. Don't knock it. Right, Sam?”  
Sam just buried his face in his hands and muttered something that sounded like a wish that he had become an accountant or a veterinarian and not having to deal with these people ever again. He heard Tony's continued laughter and then Bruce broke in. “Hey, Bucky. Can you please send me that link. I haven't heard that one yet.”   
If you can't beat them, join them. Sam put a hand up. “Send it to me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> So this meditation and others like it exist and are actually useful. I quoted exactly from one of them. You can find them on You Tube. Once you hear them, it is impossible not to think Bucky would appreciate them.


End file.
